Dream On
by youlaysolow
Summary: Mark helps Derek figure out the reason behind Addison's giddy behavior. Takes place in NY, Pre-Affair. One-shot.


**A/N:** I wrote this a long time ago but never posted it on here. Thought I would. It's short and simple but I liked the idea. :)

**Dream On**

"Is it impossible that I'm simply in a good mood?" You chuckle as your husband traces the armrest of his seat with his thumb and narrows his eyes at you with an unconvinced shake of the head.

You are settled cross-legged on the mahogany leather couch in his office, your cobb salad cradled in you lap as you tear apart the clear packaging and uncover a fork. Derek keeps his eyes on you even after you pinch your bottom lip between your teeth and busy yourself with pouring the dressing onto the contents of the plastic container, occasionally having to stop your body from shaking with giggles.

"Seriously Addie," he releases a long sigh and leans closer, resting his elbows on his thighs, "you know I won't leave you alone until you tell me."

He's never been one to settle for an unanswered question and you think just this once you will resist giving in and letting him in on your little secret. Besides, you don't have many other options. There's no telling how he would react if he knew the reason behind your giggles and flushed cheeks that have triggered a mouthful of questions this morning.

"I don't know what –," you don't get a chance to finish your response because the door swings open unceremoniously and you feel your cheeks redden to match the color of your hair before you even meet his eyes.

"I really thought they were going to pull this one off in the end," Mark mumbles without a greeting as he shuts the door behind himself and sulkily leans against the wall between the doorframe and the window. "They didn't even get on base." You know he's referring to the Yankees' unfortunate loss of the World Series from the night before, and you would normally gladly join in on the dissection of the game. This time however, you choose to stab at your salad, hanging your head to hide the giddy grin etched on your face.

"Yeah well, it just wasn't in the cards," Derek brushes off distractedly, and you lift your gaze in surprise to his rejection of a baseball debate. You're met with prying eyes as he leans back in his chair and entwines his fingers behind his head, resting back. You can see Mark eying the pair of you curiously in your peripheral vision, and before you can stop the impulse, you glance towards him, erupting in yet another set of quiet laughs as you quickly turn your attention back to your food.

"What's the matter with her?" You hear him ask, and you look up from under your hair and watch as he crosses his arms across his chest, head tilted towards you.

Your husband shakes his head, his shoulders rising and falling as their eyes stay glued on you, as if somehow they will be able to read your mind. "She's been this way all morning," he continues as you stuff a bite of your salad into your mouth and glance up at them innocently, "all bubbly, and giggly, and-", his hand gestures towards you as you cover your mouth with you palm while your shoulders shake with subtle laughter. Amidst attempting to swallow the food in your mouth and compose yourself, you think you hear the other man smirk, and you know he's studying you closely, trying to read you like he's managed to do numerous times in the past. You are almost sure that this time he cannot possibly figure you out when he crosses the room and sits on the corner of your husband's desk, a gleeful smile stretched across his face. You look up because you know he's waiting for you to, and you watch as he takes in the rosy red of your cheeks and the way you can't stop your eyes from skipping away every few seconds.

He snickers before declaring as if it is the most obvious explanation, and with all confidence that is Mark Sloan, "Dude, she had a sex dream." Your eyes widen and you're glad you are not currently chewing on your food because your jaw drops when you gasp and lose the tomato slice you had successfully caught with your fork.

You can hear Derek's low laughs echoing off the walls and you want to kick Mark for pushing you into this pool of embarrassment. Your husband asks if his friend's accusation is true and you cannot help but notice it is merely to torture you, for your initial reaction to the claim was surely enough confirmation.

"I-, well, I, I didn't," you struggle, abandoning the utensil in your hand and instead twisting your fingers in a nervous attempt to brush off the allegation.

"It's okay Addison," Mark assures you with a teasing smile after Derek curtly informs you you can't get out of this, "we all have our share of dreamy endeavors right Derek?" You raise an eyebrow when your husband nods, and upon catching your reaction shakes his head as almost an after thought. You think this might be your chance to switch it around on them but then Mark asks you who it was with and you feel your mouth go dry as your eyebrows dart up in shock.

"No one," you answer almost too quickly and the two men exchange knowing glances.

"So then, you were by yourself?" Mark's grin stretches when you wrinkly your nose as your husband sends him a warning look.

"Was it a celebrity?" Derek tries, shifting in his chair to watch you closer. You promptly assure them you are not speaking a word about the character in last night's dream, and they take this as a cue to turn on the guessing game. Mark eyes you for a long moment and then braces his hands on the edge of the desk, pressing his lips together before speaking.

"Was it that Pirate?" he asks hopefully, and Derek looks at you for an answer, "John Deep?"

"No, you guys," you start but are immediately cut off by your husband's guess.

"Brad Pitt."

Mark answers for you, pursing his lips as he shakes his head, "Nah, she's not a Brad Pitt kind of girl." And you'd love to find out how it is he came to know you so well. "What about…" you shift uncomfortably as his eyes peer at you, "George Clooney?"

You cringe and push yourself off the couch, "No, and you know what? I think I'm going to go…check on my patients," you smile, closing your unfinished salad and placing it inside the mini-fridge.

"Wait," Mark grabs your wrist and you shudder at the contact, pulling it from his grasp and informing the two of them that they're crazy. "Russell Crowe?" He tries anyway, and you shoot him a pointed look before turning the handle, "It was Russell Crowe wasn't it?"

"Yes," you sigh and roll your eyes, "it was Russell Crowe." It is the most unconvincing thing you may have said all morning, but you leave anyway and make your way down the long corridor. It is when you are stepping into the elevator, that you notice a pair of navy blue scrubs brush past you, and turn to find him leaning against the opposite wall, clearly satisfied with himself.

Your eyebrows furrow and when the heavy elevator doors slide shut, he pushes himself off the wall and takes a few self-assured steps towards you. You feel the wall against your back and draw in a slow breath when he is suddenly invading your personal space and grinning down at you as if he knows. And that's when you realize it.

"So," he whispers, twirling a piece of your hair in between his fingers, "was I good?"

You'd be lying if you said you didn't expect it, but it still takes you by surprise that he can be so terse about it. You hear yourself stammer over some words and he smirks at your nervousness, obviously amused.

"Mark!" Eventually, you find your ground and push at his chest, stepping around him and glaring from your corner of the lift. "I don't know what you're talking about," you insist, but it does nothing to wipe of the smug grin plastered on his face and you roll your eyes when he reminds you you have not answered his question.

You tell him you can't remember and he calls you a liar.

You don't know how he had chipped down the options to the correct answer, and you suspect he had known all along, and you think that maybe giving him an answer will save you days of torture and embarrassment.

The elevator jolts to a halt and you start for the exit, but he clears his throat and smiles when you release a sigh of defeat.

"If I say yes will you leave me alone?" You groan as he holds the doors for you with that arrogant grin of his. He raises his hands up in response and you roll your eyes as you mumble something along the lines of "yeah, Mark, you were good," and scurry towards the NICU before your face can blend in with your hair once more. You figure you have just given his ego a definite boost and somehow strongly doubt he would actually drop it, as he promised.


End file.
